Happy Birthday Betty

Today is our mother Betty’s birthday.  It changed from a celebration to become the anniversary of her absence after she died six years ago. But gradually this feeling is being replaced with a sense of gratitude. 

Living overseas has shifted my experience of death and mourning for friends and loved ones. In a weird dichotomy, their deaths are just a continuation of the existing separation and physical distance only now with poorer communication. 

It doesn’t take much effort for me to imagine our mother living in a parallel universe where she is now attending some prestigious writers’ colony in Maine or living in an upscale apartment near the Chicago Arts Institute. I have no idea why I see her in Chicago but she is having a wonderful time attending exhibition openings in designer clothes and eating deep-dish pizza. She just doesn’t feel the need to speak to me.

Despite returning frequently to the States to visit, I still always felt a sense of guilt for my decision to live overseas. This meant that I couldn’t participate in the ordinary daily routines and small acts of care which intimacy thrives upon. We communicated regularly by phone and email but it wasn’t the same and we both knew it. And as she grew older and frail, physical distance became a harsher emotional distance. It was very hard to see her alone but she never complained. And Covid was another complication where I could not even travel back to the States to bury her ashes until the epidemic was over.

After her death, I was freed from the shadow of guilt and sadness at the challenges in her final years and my inability to support her more. Those things that were unfulfilled and disappointing have receded and I am left with loving memories of our mother and a gratitude for all she did for my sister and me. She was a wonderful cook, gifted seamstress and had a lovely singing voice. She enjoyed antiques, interior design and encouraged our interest in the theatre and the arts. And she ensured that my sister and I could both attend college by working as a substitute teacher and later full-time to pay for our tuition. Without her, we would not have had the support to go to college.

My mother is alive and well living somewhere in my imagination and with gratitude, I know the distance between us has vanished. 

Picture of Joyce Agee

Joyce Agee

Writing can magically transport us anywhere. My blog looks at the experiences of being an expat newcomer; life in a small town in regional Australia, and what the world looks like living ‘down under’.

SHARE

Related posts

Another Agee on Film 

James Rufus Agee (1909-1955), was the posthumous winner of the Pulitzer Prize for literature in 1958 for his autobiographical novel, A Death in the Family. He is our family’s most distinguished member and comes from

Read More »

Contains Tobacco Depictions

Accustomed as I am to the verbal tomfoolery of streaming services labeling, nevertheless, I was astonished to recently see a descriptor for The Bear, an American television series with drama, comedy and cooking set in

Read More »

Repatriation Penalty Phase

My reentry to the United States after living overseas for more than three decades was a trial by fire. Everything was familiar but everything had changed. I didn’t understand the professional scene, health care or

Read More »

Call to arms

As an expatriate American and an Australian citizen, the experience of Anzac Day in Australia is filtered through my childhood memories of celebrations around the Fourth of July and Memorial Day in the United States.

Read More »

Be seen and not heard

Growing up, our father warned us ‘Children should be seen and not heard.’ It was his parental way of controlling or at least stifling our behaviour. If my sister and I were expected to be

Read More »

The thinking woman’s crumpet

The term ‘the thinking woman’s crumpet’ always makes me laugh. I first heard it in London in the 1980s and since then I have used it sparingly but effectively to describe the elusive appeal of certain

Read More »

And the runner up is…

As I wrote and revised The Newcomer’s Dictionary, there were a number of excellent words that I did not have the space to include. ‘Nomad’ lost out to ‘Newcomer’; ‘Alien’ was left behind for ‘Abroad’;

Read More »

Learning to speak photography

 Generally, families have one main photographic collection to preserve their memories and history. In fact, I have two: a collection of private memories and a collection that documents my activities as a working photographer.  The private collection

Read More »